Lunch at MacDonalds

By Bob Peterson

Mike looked at his watch. "Two O'Clock!" he
exclaimed, "That's just not fair!" He had been in the
computer room all day trying to solve a problem with
a complex set of computer programs that went
haywire for a customer.

He felt as if something or someone had cheated him
out of five hours. It had seemed that he had just sat
down in the computer room a few minutes before. His
mind and body raced, and he had nothing to show for
all his efforts. And now it was suddenly two O'Clock
in the afternoon. This pause was just long enough to
wake up his growling stomach which protested bitterly
against having missed lunch. He thought for a moment
about skipping lunch today, but decided he would
probably work better with a full stomach.

He got up and walked out of the computer room.
He walked to his office, picked up his jacket and
headed out the door. He got on his motorcycle and
drove toward fast food alley. As he passed each of the
fast food restaurants, nothing appealed to his appetite.
Every day he went to the same fast food restaurants,
hoping to find some compromise between speed and
good food. He avoided MacDonalds because he didn't
like the crowds. But today Mike was so sick of the
other restaurants in the area, he decided to give
MacDonalds another chance.

He was the last person in a long line of people
waiting to give their food orders to the cashiers.
Patiently, he thought about his computer problem as
the line grew shorter and shorter. Finally he got to the
front of the line and he stood facing the cashier.

Mike looked carefully at the cashier. The cashier
was a woman about seventy-five years old who had
bright white hair, combed neatly back
under her cap. Her face and hands were wrinkled with
age. Mike paused to think about the cashier. He
wondered why someone that age would be working at
a fast food restaurant. "Can I take your order, sir?" the
cashier asked pleasantly. The cashier's voice was
rough with age. Mike's curiosity got the best of him.
Finally he swallowed his pride and asked, "Would you
like to have lunch with me? I'm buying." The cashier
was pleased and Mike saw a twinkle in those old eyes.

A few minutes later, Mike was sitting across the
table from the cashier. "My name is Mike Downing.
What's your name?" he asked as politely as he could.
The cashier studied Mike's face carefully for a while
and answered. "The name's Ferguson. Jackie
Ferguson."

Mike was nervous. He wasn't quite sure how to
start out this conversation. He knew what he wanted
to ask, he just didn't know how to ask politely. Jackie
saw his dilemma and kept the conversation warm.
With a smile of knowingness, she said, "Tell me,
young man, why did you want to talk to me?" "To tell
you the truth, I was just curious. All I wanted to
know was, why do you work for MacDonalds? Is it
because you need the money? Are you too poor to
retire? I would certainly think that a person your age
wouldn't need to work. You could collect social
security, or maybe some pension." Mike tried to
imagine himself in forty years, working for
MacDonalds. What could drive a person to do it?
Mike didn't give Jackie a chance to talk; he continued
with his conjecture. "Don't you have any marketable
skills? You must have had a job before this one. Why
did you leave it? What could have possibly befallen
you to make you leave your job and start working for
MacDonalds? Maybe you do it because you're bored
with life. Maybe you retired once, but that became
too boring, so you decided to get a job. But why
MacDonalds? I just don't understand. MacDonalds
isn't easy work. All day long you're standing on your
feet. All day long you're forced to deal with
demanding people. All day long you're forced to clean
up after people who aren't any better than children.
Every day you must be taxed to your limits, trying to
please the customers. Why, it must be hell. I could
understand it if you worked anywhere else, but not
here."

Jackie looked right into Mike's eyes with a gentle
smile. "You're a very observant young man. You've
come up with some good points. You've been staring
the answer right in the face, but you've missed the
point entirely." Mike was taken aback. Jackie sure
talks big, Mike thought, for someone who works at
MacDonalds.

"Before I tell you why I work here, let me ask you
this," she said. "Why do you work with computers for
a living?" Mike replied, "I don't know exactly. I
guess I enjoy working with computers. It's a
challenge. It gives me a sense of accomplishment.
And because it's what I do best."

Then the oddity of her question hit Mike. "How
did you know I work with computers?"

"My dear wonderful Mike. I don't just look...I see.
You aren't seeing the whole picture. Your view of this
reality is too limited. Your mind doesn't reach far
enough. It's like trying to fit a 24-bit number in a
16-bit word. You lose information. When you learn
to let go of your boundaries, your problems will solve
themselves and you will find the magic in life."

In the twinkling of those old eyes Mike knew how
to fix his computer problem at work: make his
program use 24-bit integers instead of 16-bit.

But Jackie continued, "You know what I think? I
think you work with computers because that is your
focus for helping people. You solve one computer
problem and you help thousands of people across the
world who use the computer. You add a magic to
your programs--a magic they can't even see. A magic
that reaches out to them and touches their hearts,
warms their souls, stirs their creativity and expands
their consciousness. That is your magic. Learn to
wield it well."

"Where does the time go?" Mike asked.

"Ah, yes...when you become absorbed in your
work, you lose your sense of time because you are
actually transcending the barriers of time and space.
Your consciousness is reaching within for the answers.
Answers that can only be found within."

Mike was dumbfounded. He sat there and stared
into those old eyes, drawn in by their wisdom, their
knowingness.

Jackie continued. "Why do I work here? Do you
see these people around us? These people are real
people. The reason I work here is because I love them
all so much. These are ordinary people; the people
who need me most. They need my smile. They need
to see the twinkle in my old eyes and know that magic
is real and not imaginary. I like to pull them out of
themselves."

The next day, Mike went to MacDonalds to thank
her for the help, but Jackie wasn't there. He got the
manager. Mike asked, "Yesterday there was an old
woman cashier named Jackie Ferguson. I've got to
find her. Can you help me?" "I'm sorry, but there
hasn't been anyone named Jackie here for years."

And although Mike knew that Jackie wasn't at that
particular restaurant, he knew that in some fast food
restaurant in some small town across the globe,
someone who needed help would find her that very
day.